Drape the Flag in Mourning

O, drape the flag in mourning
     As it waves [?] [sea?] and land,
For our martyred President,
     Struck by the assassin’s hand;
At the Buffalo exposition—
     The day was bright and fair—
Our starry banner was the prize
     As it floated in the air.

Pleasure beamed in every eye,
     With one thought all were intent,
As each one their right hand offered
     To greet our President;
But in that throng a Judas
     Boldly took his stand—
A handkerchief bound well around
     Concealed his false right hand.

That scene of joy and pleasure
     Became one of wildest grief,
As a bullet from that false right hand
     Struck our [loved?] and honored chief;
Thus he fell—our President—
     And we ask, can it be true,
In time of peace, at home, beneath
     The red, the white and blue?

Where millions would defend him,
     Had they felt the least alarm,
From the very thought of danger,
     Or the faintest breath of harm;
Not a king, but a free nation’s choice,
     Who with wisdom and with care
America’s loyal sons had placed
     In the Presidential chair.

O, drape the flag in mourning
     For our martyred President—
We honor and we love it,
     And the land it represents;
And now we will defend them,
     While the sun and moon give light
And the blue sky bends above us,
     Adorned with stars so bright.

Willimantic, Conn.